A Pleasant Time with Three Hundred Orcs (1)

As the terrifying announcement ended, several orcs screamed and tried to flee. But the iron door leading outside was firmly locked. The moment they wailed and raised their fists to hammer it, a light flashed. A vivid blue radiance that could only be lightning struck them in an instant, brutally roasting their bodies. The twisted corpses collapsed with a wet thud, filling the air with the stench of cooked meat.

Nathan swallowed dryly. If those words were true, there was no escape. The shackles clattered against his trembling hands.

Jeers and laughter rippled through the seats all around. In the distance, one orc of monstrous size wasn't horrified by the situation at all. Instead, he bared his teeth in a wide grin. Nathan remembered that face. It was the orc legion commander who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had led the pursuit of him and Aspen across the Unclaimed Highlands these past few days.

“Looks like they want us to fight. So what do you say, Nagrik? Shall we give them what they want?”

The one called Nagrik was no smaller. He stepped forward and blocked the legion commander as if issuing a challenge, flanked by orcs wearing necklaces of human teeth and white skull paint on their faces. They appeared to be warriors from the same tribe.

“Of course, Bakama. I'm sick of your rule. You promised to wet our blades with the blood of empires. What is this? We're about to get struck by lightning in some nameless hole.”

Nagrik drew a curved blade and leveled it at the legion commander. He flinched as cheers erupted from the distant spectator seats.

“Don't be stupid, Nagrik.”

“The stupid one is the dead one, and the dead one is going to be you. Separate from what those unknown lunatics want, I need to see your blood.”

“What I'm saying is, think about it. They said only five would remain. Remember?”

Nagrik's subordinates glanced at one another. There were far more than five of them.

“When the numbers drop, you'll become the target. You're strong. But right beside you are easier prey than me.”

The orcs who caught the legion commander's meaning paled and reached for their weapons. But Nagrik was faster. Faster than the rebels or the ones trying to flee. His curved blade shattered their skulls first. The slaughter continued until only the five strongest remained, Bakama among them. The orc legion commander smiled with satisfaction at his rival, now drenched in the blood of his own underlings.

“Glad we reached an understanding.”

“I'll see your blood one day, Bakama.”

Once the first kill was made, the dam broke instantly. Every orc lost control. Massive bodies drunk ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on fear and excitement turned their weapons on each other the moment shoulders brushed. It didn't take long for the carving to begin in earnest.

Any sane species would have hesitated, wondering if there was another way or whether their captors would truly release them if only five remained. But the orcs of the Abyss had no such doubts. Violence came before thought, exactly as expected of them.

I was a fool for throwing that cannon and feeling even a moment of regret. My apologies for the misunderstanding. They're nothing but beasts without a shred of kinship.

Nathan had no time to wonder whether the elves would keep their word. The hellscape had unfolded in the blink of an eye. He scrambled backward in a hurry. Fortunately the shackles weren't staked to the floor, merely hideously heavy. The square was covered in sand. Charred orc remains lay scattered before the only exit. There was nowhere to run.

Nathan's mind raced. The most obvious feature was the deep shadow cast along the outer wall, created by its inward slant. It was clearly designed to prevent climbing out. Escaping over the wall was impossible. But the shadow itself looked useful. It might let him avoid the eyes of orcs busy butchering one another.

Pressed against the shadowed wall, Nathan felt fierce vibrations rumbling from beyond it, the resonance of stomping feet and roaring voices. He clenched his teeth. They were genuinely enjoying this bloodbath.

“Yeah—! Kill them!”

“Whoa! Head's flying off! About time the one I bet on won—!”

The training of the Lion Wing Knights covered everything. One exercise was learning to isolate desired sounds amid the chaos of a battlefield. Nathan kept his back to the wall and listened to the non-human spectators.

“Blood spraying right away. These ones really are insane.”

“Isn't that better? Much faster than those dwarves who kept insisting they wouldn't fight each other.”

“By the way, who did the representatives bet on?”

“My top pick is Legion Commander Bakama. He's won all fifty challenges where the legion commander seat was on the line.”

“I went with Nagrik first. He's the chief of a tribe that's hunted dragons, after all.”

“A strong favorite. That's why I filled second through fifth with Nagrik and his guard orcs—Nagrik, you crazy bastard! How can you kill your own subordinate—!”

Nathan's jaw tightened. They weren't merely betting on kidnapped lives. They knew every detail about the captured warriors to keep the bets fair. A chill crawled down his spine. Did they know about him and Aspen as well? It could be worse. An unknown force the Federation might not even be aware of could have complete access to its most sensitive military intelligence—

“What about the Sapiens? This one's armor looked pretty impressive.”

“Are you insane?”

“Did you miss the ten-part orc documentary? Human knights get ripped apart the moment they're caught.”

“There have been a few cases where Sapiens were mixed into orc groups before. But not a single one has survived to the end. Can't you see the size difference?”

Fury. And relief. Nathan let out a breath. It seemed abducting and killing humans was nothing new to them. But at least they didn't appear to know much about the Federation or its knights.

No one has ever survived to the end.

It stung, but there was truth in their certainty of his death. Surviving against hundreds of orcs was impossible. With chains binding his hands and feet, it was pure fantasy. Unlike the few armed orcs, Nathan had been dragged here without a weapon. His daggers had been spent evading pursuit. The spear and sword were gone, discarded on the ground when he pretended to throw the cannon before his capture. His body was wrecked by exhaustion and injury on top of everything.

But someone needed help more urgently than he did.

Aspen.

His senior knight had suffered grave wounds. Even without shackles, he couldn't protect himself. Nathan bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, then poured every ounce of strength into moving his leaden legs.

“Aspen? Aspen! Damn it, where are you?”

Calling out might draw attention, but he couldn't stay silent. Nathan crept along the wall, whispering harshly again and again, praying his hated superior had also reached the shadows in time.

Suddenly something flashed in the arena ceiling. Nathan flinched, remembering the lightning from earlier. It was only a false alarm. He squinted at it. The bright glow came from some kind of display board. A skull symbol kept flashing and vanishing on the screen. The sounds of combat drew closer. Nathan shrank deeper into the shadows.

A short distance away, an orc was growling as it pounded the head of a fallen kin. The brutally crushed skull finally burst with a wet pop. One of the blue symbols on the board turned blood-red and disappeared. Every time a skull vanished, the crowd roared with excitement. The meaning was obvious. It was a device that announced who had died.

Hurrying along the bulkhead, Nathan prayed desperately that none of the vanished skulls belonged to Aspen, and that Aspen was somewhere in these shadows. If he couldn't find him no matter how hard he searched, only two choices remained: give up, or plunge into the slaughter to save a man whose location he didn't even know.

“Please, please, please—”

“Don't hide, you fucking Sapiens bastard!”

Someone kicked the bulkhead violently. Nathan froze. The wall was thick, so the impact itself didn't startle him. What stopped him was instinct.

His nape burned. Nathan instinctively looked up at the display. The screen showed his own figure crouched in the shadows. He took a cautious step sideways. The focus followed him relentlessly, ensuring every spectator could see him. Jeers spread through the crowd. A wave of curses and noise erupted at once.

Are they all talking about me?

His exhausted mind flickered like a candle about to go out. Nathan broke into a cold sweat, struggling to process the situation.

“You bastard. You're the human who threw that cannon at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us, aren't you?”

He jerked in shock and blocked his flank with his arm.

“Ugh—”

A heavy impact. The force sent him flying into the wall, rattling every rib. Nathan wrapped his arms around his head and looked sideways. An orc stood right beside him. While he'd been distracted eavesdropping, it had crept up and kicked him. Behind it, four more orcs laughed mockingly. They weren't turning on one another. It seemed the legion commander wasn't the only one who had thought to form groups of five.

Beyond their shoulders, the display board showed an overhead view of Nathan crouched like prey. Wanted. Public target. The words flashed through his mind. The screen wasn't merely for the audience. It was actively hoping he would be attacked. Nathan could see his own face, gone pale, reflected on it. He saw the orcs slowly drawing their weapons. A voice drifted from beyond the bulkhead, barely audible through the noise. Yet the curse struck his mind like a spike.

“Yeah—! Hurry up and burst that Sapiens head—!”

These fucking bastards.